other. I'll bet you a fiver--one of your own,
if you like--that the rivers are in flood, and your people can't get
across. Same with the Beaver Town coach. She was due at six o'clock,
and here've I been drowsing like a more-pork on this couch, when I might
have been in bed. An' to bed I go. If she comes in to-night, the driver
can darn well stable the 'orses himself. Good night."

This was a view of the question that had not occurred to Mr. Tomkinson,
but he felt he must confer with the Sergeant of Police.

The lock-up was situated in a by-street not far from the centre of the
town. The Sergeant was sitting at a desk, and reading the entries in a
big book. His peaked shako lay in front of him, and he smoked a cigar as
he pored over his book.

He said nothing, he barely moved, when the banker entered; but his frank
face, in which a pair of blue eyes stood well apart, lighted up with
interest and attention as Mr. Tomkinson told his tale. When the
narrative was ended, he said quietly, "Yes, they may be weather-bound.
Did you have a clear understanding that the gold was to be brought in
to-day?"

"It was perfectly understood."

"How much gold did you say there was?"

"From fifteen to twenty thousand pounds' worth--it depends on how much
the agent has bought."

"A lot of money, sir; quite a nice little fortune. It must be seen to.
I'll tell you what I will do. Two mounted constables shall go out at
daylight, and I guarantee that if the escort is to be found, _they_ will
find it."

"Thank you," said Tomkinson. "I think it ought to be done. You will send
them out first thing in the morning? Thank you. Good night."

As the banker turned to go, the Sergeant rose.

"Wait a moment," he said. "I'll come with you."

They walked contemplatively side by side till they reached the main
street, where a horseman stood, hammering at Manning's stable-gate.

"Nobody in?" said the Sergeant. "You had better walk inside, and put the
horse up yourself."

"I happen to know that the owner has gone to bed," said Tomkinson.

The horseman passed through the gateway, and was about to lead his
sweating mount into the stables, when the Sergeant stopped him.

"Which way have you come to-day?" he asked.

"From Bush Robin Creek," replied the traveller.

"You have ridden right through since morning?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Did you overtake some men with a pack-horse?"

"No. I passed Mr. Scarlett, after the thunderstorm came on. That w